


Remember: Always honour the part.

by HolmesDuLondres



Series: Remember: Always dress the part. [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesDuLondres/pseuds/HolmesDuLondres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is back to work as usual, but his present case requires him to be more hands on than usual. Having to play the part at a royal event, both he and John must carryout the facade that John, is actually Jemimah, Sherlock's fiancee in order to investigate undercover as the event unfolds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember: Always honour the part.

_"Let's say we make this official..."_

The words seemed to echo like the resinating ring that resulted from clashing cymbals. John could feel his heart pounding within his chest, if this moment had been portrayed and directed by Disney; there'd be a few brightly coloured birds whirling around Johns head in a giddy blur, chirping out of sync with one another as they battled their circuit. His eyes were wide as he turned his head slightly to look Sherlock in the eye.  _'Those deep, captivating, luring jewels of- stop it John!'_ He snapped to himself mentally, his expression altering to study the sincerity at which Sherlock had proposed such a...well, proposal!

_"I...uh...Sher-"_ John attempted to speak but he just couldn't. Of course he wanted to, he'd be a fool not to. After all, it had been something that had plagued his every waking, and dreaming thought. Not so much marriage, but actually -being- with Sherlock. It was truly an immeasurable count of how many times he'd fawned over the great detective, dreamt of him, envisioned something so little as a brief touch of their hands across the table at breakfast and here he was - completely dumbfounded and at a loss of words. Sherlock Holmes had just asked him to marry him. For real. No gimmicks, genuinely he'd proposed.

_"John, you're starting to scare me now. This really was not the outcome I had rehearsed."_  Silence. Sherlock was starting to panic, he'd asked him to marry him not cut out his tongue! It took every ounce of strength he had left within in him to not break down in a stressful mess. He tried again, this time he spoke a little louder, the panic clear within his tone.  _"Okay, I understand it's perhaps a little hasty and somewhat out of the blue but John I-"_  a finger to his lips silenced him. Well, muffled him. Sherlock continued to try and speak until he realised the look upon John's face(that 'are you quite finished?' mum look, complete with raised brow and painted pout) was one that expected him to shut up so that John could speak. 

Nervously, John inahled and pursed his lips for a moment before exhaling, and in doing so, spilled his words to Sherlock.  _"You- you're, well you're bloody impossible. How can I say this without sounding crazy? Ah, yes. Sherlock, living with you has been probably one of the most tiresome and exhausting times of my life. Never before have I met someone so frustratingly irritating nor have I ever endured so much oblivious narcissism from one man than I have you. There is not a day that goes by where I do not mentaly conjure some master plan to carry out your murder-"_  Sherlock raised a brow, quick to object as he spoke against Johns finger a muffled slur of;  _"A simple no would be-"_ that look again. Damn John had that look nailed. 

Being unusually subservient, Sherlock stopped and allowed John to continue.  _"-As I was saying, there's not a day that goes by without me craving the psychotic release and achievement of murdering you but, and here's the big one. I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm addicted to a certain kind of madness, you came into my life and spoiled me for any other. There was never going to be any other than you. Of all the people  I had to fall in love with, it was you. The great Sherlock Holmes. Obnoxious to the very letter and completely and utterly perfect for me. So yes, let's as you put it:  make this official. To hell with everything and anything, I think I love you, Sherlock Holmes."_

Without further word, Sherlock's expression softened as his eyes glazed over with a teary glimmer. A grin of pure bewilderment struck his features as he released John to fiddle with the box, taking out a fairly slim titanium band that had three diamonds set apart in the top curve of the ring. Both men were blinking back tears as Sherlock carefully slipped the perfect fitting ring upon John's left ring finger. To mask his nerve, and shock, Sherlock chuckled softly and spoke, having being released from the 'finger of silence'.  _"John, do you know why the engagement, wedding and eternity rings are placed upon the left index finger? It's a quirky and completely incorrect ideal manifested by the Romans."_  He gave a dismissive wave of his hand as if to shun the idiocy that dared scope history and continued;  _"It was believed that the left index finger has a vein connected to the heart; I believe they called it the 'Vena Amoris' which I'm sure you can translate as 'Vein of Love'. Of course the only reason this tradition has continued is because modern society is too stupid and attached to its hopeless adoration of idiotic expressions of love."_

John stared helplessly at Sherlock, the detectives expression slightly askew with that familiar disregard for anything 'normal' though unlike any other occasion he'd worn such a face, he smiled. A small yet fond smile as he spoke again;  _"Yet here I am, one so against sentiment and all that it links to, slipping an engagement ring on my best friends index finger. Believing, despite knowing it's completely rubbish, that there is a vein that connects such finger with your heart. And like the Romans, my ring is one of ownership. Not of you, you are yourself, but of your heart and having my ring upon your left index finger, hypothetically grants me ownership to your heart."_  A soft sob escaped John's lips, a single tear falling from his right eye. Happiness.  _"Oh Sherlock..."_ was all he could utter, completely and utterly truly amazed. 

_"So, before I completely ruin the moment by rambling. I have one more thing to say to you-"_  Sherlock too a deep breath and leaned a little closer, his head dipped to the curve of Johns neck as he whispered soflty into his ear.  _"John Hamish Watson, I think I love you too"_. John smiled and nudged Sherlock to stand straight, his hands reaching out to frame his structured face as he met Sherlock's lips with his own. It was a soft and gentle kiss, that wasn't rushed, nor was it anything more or less than perfect. In that moment another round of applause was started by none other than Mycroft Holmes.

Of course, neither Sherlock or John could pull themselves from the kiss; it was only their second kiss but it was another milestone for them. Proudly, Mycroft continued to applaud, having been in the loop that Jemimmah was in fact John the whole evening. This entire scenario had been an idea tossed between the Holmes brothers in an attempt at Sherlock galantly showing his true feelings. Eventually they pulled back from their kiss, eyes locked on one another in a rose tinted gaze, the kind you see in the movies with a soft focal on the lover in their sight. Each mirroring the others smile so perfectly as they moulded together as one; holding onto eachother. 

Sherlock hadn't noticed, but once the applauding had stopped, Mycroft had made his way over to the band and ordered for them to play  _'At Last' by Etta James_. The comforting lull of the violins filled the silence, bringing in the song to full swing in time for the singer to chime in with her powerful vocals. The lyrics acted as a fill in for everyting Mycroft had wanted to say to the pair, but couldn't. Not yet, it would be too obvious and to be frank, he didn't want to disturb them. So, with an amused grin he gave them both a small wave and ducked back into the crowd, raised glass of champagne in hand as he vanished.  _"I do believe your brother is trying to tell us something, Mr Holmes."_  John whispered in a delicate tone, smiling at Sherlock as they started to sway to the music.

_"I think you might be quite right, though I can find fault in your statement, Doctor."_  Sherlock grinned, his hands resting upon the small of John's back as he guided him in a simple slow dance. A look of playful surprise lifted John's expression as he heightened his tone and elongated the first part of his response;  _"Oh really? and what might that be, Detective?"._  With all sincerity, Sherlock spoke. His grin a true representation of the pride he felt for what he was saying.  _"You're mistaken, he's not my brother. He's your brother too. Or rather he will be when we are married"_

Joyful laughter ruptured from John's lips as he shook his head, murmuring  _"Will be, thus meaning I'm not entirely mistaken."_ to which Sherlock replied; _"Hm. Quite right, as always you astonish me. You truly are the most remarkable human being I have ever met." ._ Now joined by other swaying couples, John took a moment to smile up at Sherlock, without a doubt amazed by what he saw. That look of pure adoration and completion worn for  _him._  The Doctor whispered softly,  _"I'm glad we agree on something"_  before resting his head against Sherlock's chest, the blonde curls that cascaded forming a barrier between his cheek and Sherlock's shirt. ' _Perfect, no make up stains. I like that shirt. I wonder if-'_ John's mind started to wander, drawing soft giggles from his lips every now and then as he lost himself in his thoughts.

Song after song they swayed, feeling at piece in one another's arms. Finally, they had initiated their forever. Now they could be happy, together. Years spent unsure of how the other would react and hiding how they truly felt had come to an end. It was all in the open now and they were to be married. Nothing could be more perfect, and nothing would come in the way of their moment.

_"John..."_  Sherlock whispered;

_"Yeah?"_  came the soft reply.

_"I love you"_

_"I love you too, idiot."_

The night fell to a close around them, the party ended and everyone left, including John and Sherlock. Still buzzing from the nights events, they took eachother lovingly by the hand and ascended the familiar steps of their home, happy and ready to settle down for the night together, in one anothers arms.

**Author's Note:**

> ||So there we have it. John's response. I know, it's extremely sappy and all that but hey! who doesn't love a bit of fluff. Anyway, there is more coming and I am so sorry I haven't had the chance to upload this sooner but...GUESS WHAT. I got engaged myself and moved house so yeah, living the dream over here. No really, I couldn't wish for a more perfect man to call my own. ANYWAY she says as she types this, I really hope you guys enjoy this...what started out as a joke turned into something I have come to love and adore and of course thank you to two people in particular, Z for suggesting the intial idea and being lovely all the time and SherlockBaggins_ for being an incredible writer and someone I've come to call a friend. Without her persistence in asking me what John replied with, you wouldn't have this, or the next part which will be coming soon. I hope. So yes, there we have it. Cute huh? I love you and thank you to everyone who reads these. I know I don't have that many reads, but to me one more than myself reading it is an achievement I'm fortunate to share. <3||


End file.
